Luke lay on the bed next to Ruth, happy to have slept in his own home. The first glow of dawn shone dimly in her brown hair. Outside a light wind played through the trees fringing the lake and birds called to each other. She was bearing the new baby well, it would only be two months till she would be confined with the women and he would make himself absent on duties rather than face the humiliation of inspection for dirt every time he wanted to go close. Once the baby was a month old and surviving he could go to being a father but if he had his way he would happily wait until it was old enough to talk. Which Samor could do quite well. He looked over at the crib, the boy needed a larger one by now.

“Ruth. Tell me about Hartor. I need to know.”

“Tell you what? Haven’t you had enough telling?” she muttered sleepily.

“No. You’ve got to tell me. How do I fit into all this? My grandfather and your father and everything else. Why does everyone know so much more than I do?”

“Hush.” Moving her arm over she held him like a child, whispering. “There are some things you can’t know until you’ve lived long enough in the mountain. Some things you can’t even know then. Some things maybe even my father doesn’t know.

“After the Mountain Wars your grandfather came to Trantrith. Men in his own country thought he had been exiled but they did not know he was one of Hartor’s two sons, sent out into the world at a young age. The rule is, one Hartor is chosen from the mountain, the next from the outer world. The other son, who all his life thought he was the victor of the conflict, stayed to rule Athelea.

“Your grandfather had children in Trantrith and two of his sons survived to adulthood. He also had a daughter from his previous life in Athelea. She was Lexa, your mother.”

Luke made no reaction, it was only what he had known all along but never put into words. Ruth stopped and he muttered something.

She kissed him on the face, stroked his beard. “Hartor will tell you the rest. In his own good time.”

They were woken again by Samor in the bright sunlight. Ruth felt queasy so Luke made the food.

“Daddy, can we make food for Trestren today?”

“If we’re quick we might get there before the men have started. But don’t forget we have to clean the dirties and tidy the house first.”

Luke felt active and energetic and the boy ran to and fro trying to help. Dishes, utensils and the few items of furniture moved into place helped or hindered by the boy's attempts at assistance. Luke closed the door where Ruth was resting.

“Right now, we need you all washed and tidy.”

He stuck his face in the air, chin out, grinning at his father. Luke held the toddler’s chin in one hand, moulding his mouth between thumb and forefinger. Samor laughed and his voice squeaked. Grabbing him in hand Luke lifted him off his feet. He put Samor down again as he found how heavy he had grown. “Come on then. Time to feed the animals.”

Luke rested Trestren for the day’s outing, a lighter horse would be better. He selected a four year old mare, grey with white patches. Samor sat in front of him. Ruth rode her own horse Trantana, a young mare she had raised from a foal. Like all the horses she was young, grey also but darker and with black streaks running into her legs.

The morning sun blazed on their hats as they stepped along the path which led, eventually, to Athelea. A mile beyond the lake they turned left, the sun on their backs.

“Go to the sea,” said Samor.

“No we’re not going to the sea today. Daddy’s taking us to a place you’ve never been before. We will be able to see the sea from there but from high up.”

“Bird,” shouted the boy excitedly as a winged shape hovered in the air off the side of the hill.”

“It’s a mountain crow,” said Luke. “In Athelean it’s called coribos.”

Samor turned his attention to the trees and the hills, then became distracted by his clothes and suddenly fell asleep.

“How can he do that?” he asked Ruth and they rode on side by side.

Coming to a small mountain the climb became steeper. The horses thought nothing of it. There were no houses on this hill, not even ruins unless perhaps buried in the trees.

“Have you ever been to the top?” Luke asked Ruth.

She smiled at him. “I have walked every hill in Trantrith.”

Curving round a crest the sea appeared in a breeze of salt wind, the blue of the horizon merging into a darker shade below. The wind cooled them a little. Below them the vast expanse of water appeared flecked with tiny white wavelets. Samor woke as they stopped, excited.

Luke looked into the far distance, to his right. “You can hardly see them from here.” Lifting his son he pointed him in the right direction. Those are the mountains of Asrith, where Chama comes from to drop dreams into your head while you sleep.”

“Chama,” said Samor.

They moved on. Another league uphill a surprising grassy patch opened out on the rocky ground, a small grove of trees in the middle.

“This is it,” said Luke. “Khedru. Where Hartor drove the Tiger away from the mountain. These are the same trees as on Peter's farm in Elenea.”

They dismounted. Ruth unpacked the food and set up the picnic, keeping an eye on the child to warn Luke if he wandered too close to steep ground. She sat and picked at a piece of ryebread.

“Come on Luke, while he’s busy. Let’s get at the food before he starts pawing at it.”

“Do you think it’s true about the tiger, Ruth?”

“What about them?”

“Well, did they really exist? Did Hartor really drive them from the mountain?”

“So he didn’t show you the skins?”

“No. What, in the caves?”

“Yes. There are two. One is almost decayed to dust. The other was properly cured. But it’s too fragile to touch. It came from the last tiger ever found in Trantrith. And presumably in the whole world. You must have forest cats in Athelea, it’s like them but bigger. Light brown coat like a hare. About the size of a large dog.”

“And what about bears?”

“No one really knows. Legend has it that the earlier Hartors wore the skins of bears to give them power. Certainly their symbol was a bear. But it seems too made up. If you see the pictures it looks just like a man in an animal skin with claws hanging from his hands and feet and a dog’s head. So I reckon it’s just a myth. But the Old Ones must have had all kinds of animals so who knows.”

“Shame if it's a myth. Anyway let’s go back to what you were telling me earlier. Hartor is the son of the last Hartor who is my grandfather. So that makes me your cousin.”

“Half. Remember we have different grandmothers. Otherwise we wouldn’t have been allowed to marry. Remember the laws on breeding. They apply to people too.”

Luke remembered the Elenean rules, with dire warnings about stunted and diseased cattle. Which he didn’t particularly believe, his own country did not have these restrictions. “So at least I understand that much. Now, when Hartor dies, sorry I shouldn’t really say that, but I had assumed your brother will take over.”

“Which one? No chance anyway. The rule is, one from the mountain and one from the country. They alternate so that between them the old and new Hartors know the whole world.”

“But the old Hartor would be dead, surely.” Luke instinctively shaded his eyes with his hands.

“This isn’t Elenea you know. They have a hopeless system. Always going from father to son and not until he dies.” Ruth too shielded her eyes on speaking the word. “Here Hartor retires. After twenty-five years is the law. And his successor is a worthy relative, not necessarily his son. He has to achieve the position by great wisdom or success in battle.”

“So does that mean ...?”

“I can’t speak for my father, Luke, but I think we’ve got a pretty good chance. He doesn’t go to that much trouble for nothing.”

“But how can I ...? I mean, being a commander in Rah’s army is one thing but ...”

“You’re not really a commander in Rah’s army are you? You’re not even Elenean. Are you even allowed in the country? You’re the ruler of Athelea and half the borderlands. You don’t take orders from Rah unless it suits you.”

Luke leaned back against the thin trunk. He hoped Ruth’s unexpected knowledge had not been picked up by Rah, though even as he thought it he knew, as he had known for months, he would be in dire peril should he ever cross the border. Let alone return to Kingston City, he still preferred to call it Rakir. Maybe there were people down there who were in prison on charges of spying for him. He would gladly take a force down to root out the whole mess in the Castle. Perhaps keeping Rah as a figurehead. But the root of the problem lay elsewhere. A breath of wind caught his hair as he heard Ruth call out to Samir to come and have his lunch.

*

Hartor came out to meet them as they returned to the lake. Ruth took Samir onto her own horse and rode ahead so the men could talk.

“We’ve had messages from Treaty. More escapers from Kingston City.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. What’s the news?”

“Not good. Elenea has a problem at the moment. Elenea does sometimes a problem with its rulers.”

“Yes. Rah is weak. He’s too easily fooled. He doesn’t get out of the Castle enough.”

“The question is, what can we do about it? If things carry on like this it will be unsafe for the whole world.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. You know who the cause of all these problems is?” Luke chewed absently on a lump of fresh gum.

“There are plenty of possibilities.”

“Do you know Commander Tivoli?”

“I’ve never met him. As far as I know he never leaves Elenea.”

“Quite. I doubt if he has been out of the northland any further than the city for years. He’s in charge of the Castle Guard. And the other person we ought to know about is Barah.”

“So these two are the ones causing trouble, you think? How do you propose we stop them?”

“Hartor, what happened to Stefan? You never did tell me.”

“Stefan? He died in the mountains. He died when his horse stumbled.”

“Yes. So much for public ears. But Stefan was a fine horseman. Who threw that rock that made his horse lose its footing on a narrow cliff path?”

“Stefan became too much. He wanted power. I gave him all I could but he wanted more. He could have killed me. He could have killed you. You were right to get away from him. I didn’t kill him, he had plenty enough enemies but I was not unhappy at the time. But what connection does this have to Rah? Do you think he has made the mistake of letting people become too powerful?”

“No. Well, yes, but I was thinking more of Igor. I believe he is making it difficult for Marcos to enter Athelea. I believe he is building up forces of his own. I’m starting to mistrust him and soon he’s going to become aware of the fact.”

“So we have two problems. Thank you for doubling my headache, Luke.”

“Oh, but I haven’t. We have people who are a potential trouble in Athelea and people we don’t want in Elenea. Why not pit them against each other? Then we’ve halved the problem.”

“So we persuade Igor to go in with some of his own troops and attack this Tivoli. Yes, very clever but a bit vague. You’re beginning to think like a ruler, Luke, but you have a long way to go. It is not sense. Igor would never go in to Elenea let alone approach the city. Think things, Luke, but you let your imagination carry you away. Igor is my man, he’ll stay with me and will be here after I no longer have the name of Hartor. I shall keep you separate as much as possible but you must learn to live with him. Power lives uneasily with power. What is your plan for Athelea?”

“Simple. Igor does nothing there that Marcos isn’t capable of. It is ruled by the Council of Elders and that is suitable. I suggest keeping Igor away from the place.”

“And what about you?”

“I have a plan for unification of the borderlands.”

“Be careful.”

*

Luke met with Marcos at their father’s farm, the old man was pleased to see them but suspicious of their arrival, both at the same time with a bodyguard of just two soldiers each. He accommodated them in separate quarters and they rode out towards the Forest where there were no curious ears to eavesdrop. The soldiers were ordered to hang fifty paces behind.

“So what’s your problem?” Marcos just looked straight ahead though he had no intention of going into the trees, he would turn and skirt the uphill to the side when they got that far.

“Commander Tivoli. You know him?”

“I think so.”

“How many times has he tried to kill you?”

Marcos continued to face ahead, he could hardly deny it. He broke his silence.

“Three times. These are the men from Elenea. None of them went home.”

Luke detected a sense of superiority or possibly triumph in his brother’s voice as he said this. He pressed on. “He will try again.”

“You are afraid of him? You want me to go in and take him out?”

“I would not put it quite so plainly.”

“It means the same thing. He is our enemy.”

They rode on. Marcos turned to right as they approached the trees, beyond them the path turned again beyond the edge of the Forest to lead steeply into the Hinderith, so he would loop round to right once more and they would end back at the farm. “How many men can you give me?”

“I have a handful of Eleneans who will happily risk their lives against him. That will be enough.”

*

Peter received the news at the border post on the edge of the settled part of Elenea. He was so angry the messenger fell to his knees in fear but he was not in a mood to worry about servants. His spies already knew where Luke would be. Grabbing a horse and without even provisions he hurtled along the well known trail to Treaty forty leagues away, stopping only at a settlement where the farmer kept a change of horse for him for such an emergency. Raising clouds of dust he thundered into the military part on the high ground of the town, guards letting him through when they saw who it was. Jumping off his horse he left it untied, panting and sweating for the men to take care of. Grime streaked his face and hands. One of his own men signalled surreptitiously to him to point out the hut he wanted. The guards, sensing nothing unusual in his comings and goings. stood to attention outside as he strode in. Luke was in there alone.

“You. Murderer. Is that all you’ve become? Just a common murderer.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think I’m a baby? I can smell you from the highest mountain. You and that brother. You got rid of him just to settle a petty personal grudge.”

Luke’s face betrayed his guilt. “What do you mean, personal grudge. He’s a monster. He’s caused havoc to a nation with his schemes and intrigues. Now Rah can have a chance to rule properly.”

Peter snarled at Luke, turning his pain into rage. “Don’t you tell me this. It’s Rah who’s caused all the havoc, you stupid fool. It’s been Rah all along. Rah. Rah. Rah.”

“You expect me to believe that. What’s your part in all this? Flitting back and forth between all the countries of the world. Puts you in a nice position doesn’t it?”

Peter’s anger snapped. Whipping out a concealed dagger he lunged for Luke, Luke jumped, stretched out his fist against Peter’s forearm. The hand carrying the knife slid harmlessly along his side. Grabbing the left shoulder he made to throw his opponent to the floor but Peter was not in the same place and he grabbed thin air. Luke realised too late he was dealing not with an overgrown teenager but a trained and dangerous warrior at peak strength. Raising the dagger high in the air Peter aimed straight at Luke’s head. Luke parried but the dagger had already switched expertly to the left hand punching Luke hard on the breastbone.

It was a flint dagger, not managing to penetrate the tough bone but still Luke felt more pain than ever in his life. A red mist hazed his eyes. Out of reflex he blocked the second attack but felt his legs kicked and he was falling backwards, the dagger ready for the fatal blow. Trying to raise his feet in defence he found Peter kneeling on him in the strike position. One second, two seconds, and he took in the hands holding his assailant’s arms, the struggling young man being pulled backwards by guards. The weapon falling to the floor and the two soldiers giving him a thorough beating.

“Leave him,” said Luke. “Tie him and keep him under arrest. I need help.”

The medical man, such as there was in the camp, cleaned the blood from Luke’s chest and examined the wound.

“It went half way in. You are a strong man. I can wrap the wound to stop you bleeding but it will go bad. The blood will fall inside your body and you will have a fever. You will be in the hands of the gods.”

“Do you think I’ll survive?”

“It is not good. We don't have many herbs and mainly just field treatments.”

“Then I must go to Trantrith.”

“You have a chance. If you can get there. Push this pad into your chest. I can tie it in place and you will have to hold it tight. Can you manage it in two hours?”

“I have done it in one,” said Luke. “We’ll be going slower, but two should be easy enough.”

“Drink water before you leave. Tell your men they may need to carry you.”

Luke had no intention of being carried by his men. But he did drink water.

By the time they reached Hartor’s village he was hardly able to hold on to the horse. Two of the soldiers raced ahead with the news. Ruth already had water on the boil when the horses arrived. She could not move well with the baby large inside her, but her mother was in complete command. Luke slid off the horse and had to be helped into the hut. She pulled off his shirt and shouted when she saw the damage.

Luke was vaguely aware of a barrage of instructions, lists of herbs and things he had never heard of, sending all the men away and ordering the women. All the tools must sit in boiling water, he could smell something sharp a bit like strong drink. Hot water loosening the dressing and the matted blood on the freshening sore of his chest, he ignored the pain as she laid him on the bed and told him to stay there. Turning on his side he drew his knees up towards his face and fell gratefully into unconsciousness.